


A Light In The Fog

by VioletteMoon



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Grandpa Arlert is in the hospital, High School AU, Jean is just a supportive friend who not-so-secretly wants more, M/M, implications of sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-16
Updated: 2019-02-16
Packaged: 2019-10-29 17:00:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17811908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VioletteMoon/pseuds/VioletteMoon
Summary: Armin is beside himself grieving over his hospitalized grandfather. With the distraction of sadness, he doesn't anticipate the chance encounter with Jean Kirschstein -- the genetically-blessed football player at his school with a face seemingly made for cocky grins. Armin also doesn't anticipate the flurry of emotions that follow their subsequent meetings.





	A Light In The Fog

**Author's Note:**

> Happy belated Valentine's Day. Have some Jearmin.

****

Armin hated hospitals with an undying passion, but the abhorrence was unmatched by his _need_ to visit _Saint Maria Center_ each day after school.

As the colder months were ushered in, his grandfather’s latest illness reared its head as well. This time, hospitalization was not something the Arlerts could steer from. The old man’s homegrown methods of attending himself were dwindled next to the treatment of a professional. No amount of herbal tea could diminish just how _sick_ he was.

This was the reason Armin found himself at the intuition he was born in on a daily basis. Going to see his grandfather at each possible second was not something he had to consider.

\---

“Are you comfortable, Grandpa?”

Armin was leant forward in the forest-green wingback chair. He’d brought it up to the side of his grandfather’s hospital bed so together, they could watch _Seinfeld._

Carlton Arlert wasn’t in terrible condition, just weaker than normal and a haggard _shadow_ of who he once was. This was to be expected. The conversations with Dr. Zoe broke the news that his grandfather likely wouldn’t be released until January, if even then.Evidentially, Carlton had been shielding Armin from how bad his ailments truly were. It was just his luck that something of this magnitude would occur during a season that commanded people to be _merry._

But what was enjoying his favorite holiday compared to being near what remained of his family?

 

“I could do with some Pepsi.”

The gruff utterance tore Armin from his brooding.

“Think you could make a cafeteria run? Also, while you’re down there, you should get yourself a meal, Armin.” The old man was looking at the blond from his upright position in his bed. “I’m not gonna wither away if I’m alone, you know.”

“I know that.” Armin breathed through his nose. He was strong. He’d always been strong, but something felt different this go around. He didn’t voice his worries because Armin hoped that was all they were: worries.

“Mac and cheese does sound good, I’ll admit…” And some cookies. Yes, definitely cookies.

“Pepsi’s all you want?” Armin unzipped his backpack to procure his wallet from the front pocket. His grandfather nodded and waved him off. Armin left the room quite dutifully, musing with a smile that Carlton had always been a tyrant of tough love.

\---

The cafeteria wasn’t too crowded and from the looks of it, their stock of macaroni and cheese wasn’t yet depleted. Armin had to appreciate things working in his favor during such a _dismal_ time.

 

He bought his desired food but in checkout, he was seduced. Armin thought it amusing because these particular items were targeted at people like him. But they were _too adorable_ to resist! Gingerbread cookies, each one frosted and decorated for the upcoming Christmas holiday.

“How cute and festive.” Armin sighed happily and collected three with no hesitation. A serving of macaroni and cheese and three Christmas cookies. It was the ideal supper, in Armin’s learned opinion. He cheerfully purchased his grandfather’s Pepsi, then carried his tray through the cafeteria.

That was when something garnered his attention. Armin noticed the book first: the newest installment in a mystery series he’d been following since sophomore year. Then, Armin saw the boy holding it.

He knew him as Jean Kirschstein, though it was unlikely the football player even had the smallest inkling of whom _he_ was.

 _Why is he at Saint Maria? And reading_ that _book?_

Jean Kirschstein was one of the “popular guys” at school. The bill was to be tall and genetically-blessed, with an aptitude for sports. It went without saying that he fit it perfectly. That was why it didn’t stick in Armin’s mind that _this guy_ would be reading his favorite mystery novel.

He’d like to know more on the why, but his curiosity would have to remain uncharted. Armin didn’t have the gall to initiate a conversation with someone like Jean Kirschstein, even if it _was_ a topic he was boundlessly passionate about. He was unprepared for Jean to look up from his book. Their eyes met half a second later, and it was then that Armin realized just how _hard_ he’d been staring.

_Damn it! He’s gonna think I—_

“Aren’t you Armin Arlert?”

 _Wait,_ what? _He knows my name?_

“Um…” Armin’s fingers quivered on the sides of his tray. “S-Sorry, yeah, um, you’re… Jean Kirschstein, right?”

Up close, Jean really was a comely youth. From afar, too. Honestly, this guy was all-around breathtakingly gorgeous. There was a dust of stubble on his jaw that made him look older than his sixteen years. His hair, curving just under his chin, billowed nicely about those sharp, equine facial features.

Jean was doing the romance novel cover-model look well.

“That’s me,” the taller of the two said, sporting a little half-smile. “So what, did you need something? What’s the look for?”

Even a self-proclaimed master of deceit had trouble in such a _trying_ moment. Armin grabbed a gingerbread cookie and chewed on the end, allowing a second to stall.

“…I was just surprised to see you reading that.” He nodded in the direction of the paperback book Jean possessed. “It’s one of my favorites.”

“Oh?” Jean grinned at him from his seat. “Well, congratulations are in order. You’ve got good taste.” He sipped the can of soda on his tray.

It took sound effort to keep the blush off Armin’s cheeks. This certainly wasn’t what he expected would happen on his trip to the cafeteria. He’d predicted it would be more or less uneventful, but here he was conversing with a guy he’d spent all of three years of high school with and had never breathed a word to.

“Um, thank you.” Armin felt hopelessly bashful speaking to him. “I suppose I should, um... leave you to it, then?” He turned on his heel and hurried started off.

With his back turned, there was no way to know Jean’s eyes lingered for a few seconds as Armin walked away.

\---

Armin rode the elevator to the sixth floor, glad the journey to his grandfather’s room wasn’t long. His taste for the macaroni and cheese was _nagging._ When he returned, Armin observed that the man was snoozing away in his bed. _Seinfeld_ played on the wall-mounted television from above.

The endearing sight put a smile on his face. He made minimal noise as he laid his tray on the window-side table and sat in the chair tucked beneath it. Armin’s closeness to the window let him hear the saxophone instrumental Christmas music from outside. He smiled and closed his eyes, relishing it while he ate.

He periodically peeked to his grandfather to ensure the man was indeed breathing.

\---

The following day was the first time Armin hadn’t stopped home before heading to _Saint Maria Center._ His school happened to be within ten blocks, which was manageable walking distance to someone who’d forgotten to add funds to his metro card.

The small blond basked in the breath of snow that was blown about by the wind. Snowflakes landed on his coat and he could only guess his beanie wasn’t faring any better. He eyed the intersection up ahead and knew after walking through that, it would be a straight shot to the hospital.

Armin waited at the corner for the light to change and pedestrians were allowed to cross the street.

“En route to the hospital?”

It was a voice Armin recognized, but only dimly. He would admit to being stumped by what he saw when he turned his head. Jean Kirschstein was beside him at the crosswalk. He was _talking to him_ again.

“Um—” Armin was at a loss over why he would even ask. What difference did it make if he was or wasn’t?

“Y-Yeah.” It was shameful that Jean triggered such mental _turbulence_ from a single question. Armin cleared his throat to gather himself. “Yeah, I am,” he muttered.

Jean smiled a fraction. “I notice you go there a lot _.”_

That took Armin completely aback. His eyes widened and he looked fully at the willowy boy. “You _noticed_?” Armin just couldn’t imagine his life was interesting enough that someone would be paying attention.

Jean seemed to realize he was being too forward and took a step back. “Uh yeah, my mom works part-time shifts there.” He spared a sheepish grin. “Sometimes I see you around.”

Armin made himself relax. “Oh, is that… why you were there yesterday?”

Jean brushed away a snowflake that made a home in the middle of his nose. Armin wouldn’t deny the sight was sort of comical.

“Yeah.” He seemed embarrassed. “I was bringing her some dinner ‘cause she had a late shift. The cafeteria food’s good, but there ain’t nothing like a homecooked meal to satisfy the palate.”

Jean’s grin turned cocky when he said, “Especially when prepared by the city’s resident chef.”

The light changed. The two boys crossed the street alongside one another and continued talking seamlessly. Armin tried to hide his shyness. _I’m... talking to Jean Kirschstein…_ He had difficulty wrapping his mind around this new development.

“’Ain’t nothing’?” Armin’s laughter was soft and careful. “Might I remind you we go to a school for the gifted?”

In response, Jean only grinned and shrugged his shoulders.

“Hey… Would it be too weird to ask why you’re always at the hospital?” His amber eyes were glued to Armin curiously.

“I mean, it is kind of personal.” Armin started to worry his bottom lip with his teeth. “Uh, my grandfather…” Why was he telling him this? “He was admitted at the end of November. I live with him and… it’s lonely being in an empty house all the time. That, and he pretty much raised me. He’s really the only parent I have.”

Armin didn’t understand why that revelation slipped out. Ordinarily, the blond chose secrecy when a subject wandered too close to his personal life. Talking about himself was no hobby.

Jean looked immensely sympathetic. When they turned a corner, he brought his scarf up around his nose. Armin noticed the silver stud on the left side of it.

“Fuck, I’m sorry, I—” He paused for a bit. “I wasn’t expecting it to be that deep. I shouldn’t have asked… Sorry.” He rubbed the back of his neck.

In spite of everything, Armin laughed. It was better to lift the mood than to wallow in his self-pity, and Jean’s contrition was amusing to see.

“It’s nothing, Jean. Really. I’m used to it.” Saying his name left the oddest tingle on Armin’s tongue.

Jean looked unconvinced, but it didn’t seem as if he was going to pry further. _Good._ Armin was grateful.He’d not foreseen his enjoyment from speaking with this guy. Armin felt loath to part ways with him, though he knew it would be the ultimate outcome.

“I… was planning on stopping in _Starbucks_ before heading up to the hospital,” Armin said. He had a hankering for a holiday-themed drink and a cake pop (or three) to satiate his sweet tooth. “Just telling you ‘cause, you know, it’s coming up on the next street and, w-well, I don’t want you to be surprised when I just suddenly leave.” His eyes cast downward.

Jean was amused at the blond male’s embarrassment. He patted him on his back to get his attention. “What makes you think I don’t want _Starbucks_ , too?”

 _Wait._ Armin blinked. _Is he insinuating we go together right now?_ That somehow felt very intimate, but perhaps that was Armin reading too much into the situation. It _was_ only coffee. People did that together all the time.

 _Only coffee. Right._ He swallowed a breath and donned his signature smile.

“Sorry, I didn’t consider that. I just thought… It’d be kinda weird to go together. But then, not really, would it? Ugh, sorry again.” Apologizing was commonplace for him. “This is me being overly-cautious for no reason...”

Abashed, Armin peered up through his fringe. “I’d be honored if you were to have coffee with me, Jean.”

It was startlingly easy to say. He saw the grin that splattered onto his schoolmate’s face upon hearing Armin’s declaration.

“Well,” Jean perked up visibly. “it’d be a disservice to deprive you of my presence.” He smiled at the snowy sky and placed his hands on his hips rather theatrically.

“Yes, it would.” Armin couldn’t resist laughing at how _ridiculous_ he looked. _I’m going to_ Starbucks _with Jean Kirschstein_. It felt queer to think about. Armin rued the anxiety that just wouldn’t recede while they trekked along the sidewalk, chatting amicably.

\---

It was congested in the coffee shop, but this wasn’t enough to deter Arnim and his cravings. He fell in line behind a middle-aged woman and undid some buttons on his peacoat.

“Fuck, it’s crowded in here,” Jean complained. He still stood beside Armin with all the intent to buy something, though.

“This _Starbucks_ is always crowded. It’s right on the corner.” Armin removed his knitted gloves and tucked them into his coat pocket.

“Why did you want to go here, then? There’s one in the _Target_ up the street, too.”

Armin grinned broadly at his new companion. “This is literally the only one I’ve encountered that is never out of cake pops.” He said it seriously, but that hardly kept Jean’s laughter at bay. He shook out his hair after pulling off his beanie. Armin mirrored the action.

“Cake pops really made you suffer through all this mess?” He chuckled.

“We’re here, aren’t we?” Armin edged forward with the line. “It’s just not the same without them. I have a sweet tooth, Jean. It’s my curse.”  He giggled and showed him the miniature candy cane kept away in his pocket.

Jean’s laughter didn’t seem as if it was going to subside anytime soon. “Seriously, Armin?” He shook his head.

_Oh, Christ… It sounds really nice when he says my name…_

The matter of Jean’s attractiveness wasn’t something to debate. And his voice was appealing, too. Armin bit his lip _hard_ to stop blood from flushing up his neck.

Smiling blue eyes shifted to Jean as if those _deplorable_ thoughts about him hadn’t even surfaced. “I’m a fiend for sweets.” 

“So I’ve come to realize.” Jean smirked. “It’s weird, isn’t it? It took three years for us to even really interact.” He scanned over the menu when the line started to shorten.

“I wouldn’t say _weird._ ” Armin tucked back a lock of strayed blond hair. “Unfortunate, perhaps. But… what would a jock even have in common with a nerd?”

Jean seemed to be fixing to speak against the label of Armin being a nerd even as they both saw truth in it.

“Well, for one,” Jean smiled toothily at the boy. “their shared love of cake pops.”

\---

After they ordered their drinks, Armin reiterated that Jean didn’t have to stick around if he didn’t want to. Jean just chuckled.

“Armin,” He collected his eggnog latte from the counter when the barista finished preparing it. “I have no problem asserting myself. If it wasn’t what I wanted, trust me, you’d know.”

The hand that wasn’t holding his cake pops was wrapped around his peppermint mocha. Armin reveled in the warmth emitting onto his palm.

“M’sorry.” He smiled timorously at the other male. “It’s just… still hard for me to process. _Jean Kirschstein_ is willingly having coffee with me. Never thought I’d be spending my afternoon like this.”

Jean smiled back at him. “I could be saying the same. I’m actually surprised… I’ve always kinda admired you, Armin, so it’s—”

“Wait, _what_?” Armin’s already large eyes became more so. He wouldn’t let himself believe he heard him correctly. “You admired me?”

“Well, yeah. I mean… You’re so freaking smart and so nice to everyone and—” Jean glanced off to the side, halting for a moment. “You’re just so unapologetically yourself, you know? Those bigots at school always have shit to say but you don’t let it bother you. Those are admirable qualities.”

When he finally did turn back, there was the smallest whisper of a blush on his cheeks.

Armin’s eyes were still blown wide. He doubted he would believe someone if they told him _this_ was what he’d be doing after school on the 12th of December.

_He admired me? This is too much..._

“So… yesterday, when you seemed unsure about who I was… That was an act?” He looked incredulous.

Jean’s embarrassment increased.  “I didn’t want to give myself away. But yeah, I was actually glad for an excuse… to, um, _cross paths._ ” He took a long sip of his latte and sighed. “That sounds fucking stupid now that I’ve said it aloud.”

Still, Armin was disbelieving. He stared intensely at his coffee cup, counting the snowflakes that adorned it as he attempted to form his response.

“Shit. Did I freak you out?”

“No…” The blond breathed deeply before shifting to meet Jean’s eyes. He was surprised at his ability to even speak.

“I just wasn’t expecting that... You have to understand, Jean,” Would he ever get used to saying his name? “I see myself as pretty uninteresting. It jarred me to hear you feel otherwise...” He lifted his drink to his mouth, speaking low.

The honesty Jean professed when he stated his apology was a bit _too much_ for Armin.

“Sorry,” he said. “I didn’t mean to jar you. I was just speaking truth.”

Armin challenged that with a playful glint in his blue eyes. “ _Your_ truth.” He grinned a little, sipping his mocha and appreciating the minty flavor. It prompted bittersweet memories of his grandfather often putting candy canes in his hot cocoa during the winter season.

“Jean, I think… I should probably go now.” He looked up at the football player calmly. “My grandfather is expecting me... I, um, shouldn’t linger.”

Armin was caught off guard by the extent of Jean’s dejection. It really did seem as if he didn’t want him to go, which had the boy stuck dumb.

_There’s just no way…_

Right then, the smart option was to put distance between them. Armin was all for it; He needed relief from this anxiety-inducing encounter. His dainty fingers tightened on the bag of cake pops he was holding.

“We’ll see each other at school.” Practiced sweetness was in his tone. “I really did have fun. Can’t say I planned for this to happen, though I—”

He started instantly when Dean Martin’s rendition of “White Christmas” began to play out from the bistro’s speakers.

“Ohh, I absolutely love this song…” Armin gushed, smiling brightly at the ceiling. “His voice is so magical-sounding to me. It’s like _perfect_ for Christmas music!” He drank in some of his mocha, vibrating happily.

“God, now I don’t wanna leave.”

Jean chuckled at the blond. He was clearly amused by his childish wonder. “You don’t have to right this second you know.”

Armin shut his eyes to appreciate the festive ambiance. “After this song.”

\---

True to his word, Armin took his leave when the song ended. He had a mind to stay solely to listen to more Christmas music (at least he told himself that was the only reason), but chose against the temptation. He paced with his drink the remaining blocks to _Saint Maria_ , trying not to dwell too much on what he was leaving behind.

Upon reaching nearer to the hospital, Armin blew out a pleased sigh. He was enjoying the comfortable cold against his face— not frigid; a favorable temperature for light snowfall. He continued drawing in sips of his peppermint mocha.

\---

“I bought you a cake pop.” Armin greeted his grandfather with a smile when he waltzed into his hospital room.

The elderly man was bolstered on his pillows and staring rather despondently at the window, though he turned at the sound of the door clicking. “What flavor?” He forced a smile at his grandson.

The mood cut thickly through the air. Armin’s worry flared as he brought his items over and sat them on the table. “Birthday cake, of course.” He leaned against the table, moving to look his grandfather in his paler blue eyes.

“Something’s wrong.” He didn’t waste time asking since it was so apparent he was correct. That put Armin on edge.

“Perceptible as always,” Carlton sighed. He outstretched his hand and Armin dug into the bag, placing one of three cake pops in the wrinkled pad of his palm.

“It’s not easy to tell you...” The man bit into the ailment and chewed over quiet seconds. Armin continued staring at him.

“It’s never been easy... That’s why I haven’t—” Then, he interjected himself and looked sideways at the window. “Armin,” he uttered faintly, “my liver... It’s failing.”

 _What?_ No, surely he’d misheard that. _His liver?_ Armin’s jaw slackened and his lips fell asunder, gaping desperately at his grandfather for it to have been a lie.

_Please, I can’t…_

His more composed thoughts knew it wasn’t, though. The pain that struck Armin right then was too severe to speak about. He couldn’t locate anything to say.

“I’ve known about this… for about three years,” Carlton confessed, his voice quiet. “I didn’t keep it from you with the intention of hurting you, Armin. It’s just… not the most pleasant thing to discuss and I never knew how to—”

“Wait, backtrack.” Armin’s eyes narrowed slightly. “So you’ve known for _years?”_ That element of what he said was only just starting to sink in.

“Were you getting treated at least?” Armin didn’t think he had been. Under his façade, it was commonly known that Carlton’s strength was moldering. It had been for years.   

“I do receive treatment occasionally, but it’s only prolonging the inevitable. Armin, I’m over seventy, and I have a healthy history of alcoholism, as you well know.” His feeble grin was unfitting for the situation. “Guess all that’s finally coming to collect, huh?”

“Don’t make light of this,” Armin snapped, his jaw setting in place. There were far too many emotions whirling about for him to even try and take note of. He did recognize the profound urge to cry, though.

“You have a failing liver and… according to Dr. Zoe, you’ll be hospitalized the majority of Winter.” Recounting that wasn’t conducive to the sadness tugging at his heart. “It’s hardly time to be joking, Grandpa.”

His grandfather finished his cake pop and tossed the empty stick at the trash bin. “You’re right.” He heaved a sigh. “But I’ve had time to make peace with this. I’ll be dead before long and it’s irrecoverable now.”

Being overwhelmed seemed to be the default emotion for Armin. His steps listless, the boy sat himself on his grandfather’s bed beside his blanket-clad legs.

“Sorry I don’t have the same luxury.” Armin jaw remained clenched. “I wish I had known… I could’ve done, I don’t know, _something._ ”

“Whether you knew or didn’t wouldn’t have changed the outcome, Armin.” The man eyed him gloomily. 

Armin was resolved to persist. “We don’t know that.” Hot tears were stinging behind his eyes.

“ _I_ know that. My immune system just isn’t what it used to be. All the drinking, and my age, can attest to that.”

Armin was not ready to hear the truth, nor his grandfather’s acceptance of what was to come. The part of him dictated by his love for the man wanted him to _fight this._ When he finally submitted to tears, choked sobbing sounds came too. His head sunk into his palms in a vain attempt to keep his cries quiet.

A lapse of silence settled. Armin sat crying on his bed, and Carlton looked on with the most depressed countenance. The man was unaffectionate, but he made his feelings known with the occasional rub to Armin’s shoulder.

It was all Armin had expected, in truth.

 

They talked for a while about the illness: what it meant for the remaining portion of his life, what Armin would be doing after he was gone. When he heard his grandfather’s morbid suspicion that he’d be dead within the following year, Armin was thrown into heavier, more despairing bawls.

 

“Do the Jaegers know I’m here?” his grandfather asked as Armin began wiping his eyes and took his try at calming down.

“I haven’t really… talked to Eren much recently...” Admitting he wasn’t connecting with his childhood best friend was more than a little dismaying.  

“He’s dealing with his own stuff,” Armin said. “You know, since Christmas last year was when Aunt Carla passed… Our last phone call was in the first week of the month. I think he’s just trying to cling to Mikasa right now.”

There were blissful years when the three of them were inseparable, but Armin relocating to a different state put a strain on things. That, and Eren and Mikasa finally acted on the feelings anyone within a mile radius could see and started dating.

Now, it was as if they were two halves of a whole and Armin was the outlier. Though he knew his friends hadn’t meant to exclude him, it happened anyway. Eren and Mikasa were growing closer with this newfound relationship and Armin was left estranged.

“Sounds to me like the three of you need to physically be together for things to click back to normal.”

His grandfather was right, of course. In a perfect world, Armin _would_ set aside his problems and go see them, but that just wasn’t feasible at the moment.

“You should buy a bus ticket and go spend Christmas with them,” his grandfather suggested.

Armin shook his head. He looked the man in his sunken-in face. “If only.” He sighed regretfully. “I think Eren and Mikasa will have to be put on the backburner this year…” His friends had always come first before, so this was, to say the least, saddening.

“This might be our last Christmas together, Grandpa.” Armin reached for Carlton’s hand, squeezing when he felt the preamble of more tears threatening to spill out.

\---

Homeroom was always too hectic for Armin to get anything done. Most days, he remained at his desk and played on his phone while waiting for the bell to ring. That Friday didn’t stray from the norm. It was absurdly noisy in Mrs. Brazenka’s classroom; the woman too mild-mannered to handle a boisterous assembly of eleventh graders, so she sat at her desk and graded papers.

Armin was half-playing chess on his phone, half-watching the clock as it neared time for dismissal. _2:50._ It couldn’t arrive fast enough.

Then, suddenly, the classroom door opened and in came an impersonation Santa Claus, jolly red-and-white garb and all. Armin sat up straighter with piqued interest. Further inspection told him it was the mascot, Thomas Waggoner, in a fat suit. Armin laughed at the humorous display.

“Everyone settle down!” Mrs. Brazenka called out energetically. “Santa has come to bring candy cane grams!”

Thomas stood before the congregation of students. He reached into his sack and retrieved the first gram assigned to Mrs. Brazenka’s junior homeroom.

“Ho, ho, ho!” Thomas bellowed out his best Santa impression. “Is there an Armin Arlert in here?”

 _What?_ Armin was dumbfounded. It showed in the cautious way he raised his arm, beckoning Thomas over to his seat. _I_ _don’t have any friends. This has to be some kind of mistake._ An uncertain furrow formed in Armin’s brow.

“Someone is thinking of you this holiday season.” Thomas placed the card and candy cane down in front of him with a smile.

“Thanks, Santa,” Armin said amiably. He waited until he’d moved on to the next student before reading the note.

 _Armin,_  
Had fun going to Starbucks with you. I’d like to actually be friends if you’re down.  
\- Jean  
(PS, I know how much you like candy canes.) 

Unwittingly, Armin was smiling at the candy cane gram. He couldn’t say it was expected, but in no way was it unwelcome. He hadn’t considered Jean would even be thinking about him after their impromptu coffee run. Pessimism told him he’d spurted that line about admiring him only because it befitted the moment. There was just _no way_ he was that memorable to anyone.

But his want to be friends seemed genuine enough. It left fluttering uneasiness in his stomach, and a definite bout of astonishment, too. Why would he want that? They’d had fun, but it could easily be written off as a one-time thing...

 _Jean wants more._ The emotions that came about were unclear. His hand went over his heart like a character in an old-timey romance film.

Armin jetted out of the room the instant the bell rang, gathering his belongings from his locker— all his necessities for his weekend homework—and skittering to the adjacent hallway.

Relief broke on his face when he spotted Marco Bodt. The boy stood at his locker while he chatted up some cute brunette. The girl’s hair was in pigtails and she looked like she may’ve been a freshman. When he noticed Armin, a smiling expression landed on the blond and he lifted his hand in a wave.

“Hey there, Armin!”

Out of the jocks, Marco was easily the most approachable. He had the reputation for being incomparably nice _._ Not only that, but he was Jean’s closest friend. Who better to point him in the direction of where he might be?

“Hi Marco.” Armin smiled shyly at the freckled football player. “Um… Hey, I know this is kinda weird but…” He scratched his cheek with his index finger. “I need to find Jean. You know where his locker is, right?”

Marco’s eyebrows drew in for a split second, then the smile reappeared in full force. “So you got his candy cane gram?” His entire being emanated friendliness. “He did mention he was sending you one and he seemed… pretty excited about it.” The grin he wore resembled his best friend’s.

Armin hadn’t the time to react to that— Jean was excited?!— before Marco resumed speaking.

“But anyway, yeah. His locker is 211, right by Mr. Ackerman’s room.” The girl at Marco’s locker seemed to be growing restless, which he was oblivious to. “He always loiters around after the bell, so you can probably take your time.”

Armin smiled in gratitude. “211, thank you, Marco.” He nodded to him once before turning and bolting off to the stairwell at the end of the sloped hallway.

\--

Armin turned a blind eye to the handsy couple on the landing as he ascended the stairs in quick strides. He was thankful Mr. Ackerman’s room was in immediate view when he walked out of the stairwell’s second floor exit.

Armin spied Jean after just a second. His schoolmate was in the midst of shutting his locker and had his coat hallway zipped up. He looked so very detached from the loquacious cheerleader talking to him at a heightened decibel.

Armin forcibly swallowed anxiety, sauntering his way over as not to give the impression that he’d been anticipating this. His thumb ran nervously over the strap of his backpack.

“Jean?”

He was accosted by a massive smile.“Armin, hey!” Jean turned to face him, dismissing the cheerleader with a wave of his hand. The girl heeded his cool request only after glaring at the culprit behind taking his attention away.

Jean didn’t seem to care for her in the slightest. His eyes remained closely set on Armin. “What’s up? Did you get the candy cane I sent?”

Armin smiled without meaning to. He produced the card from his coat pocket and flourished it around indicatively. “Mhm, I did.”

He pulled the candy cane from the back and started to unwrap it. “It was really thoughtful, Jean. I hadn’t considered… Well, I don’t know, I just didn’t think Wednesday made that much of an impression on you...” He licked the curved end before sticking it into his mouth.

Jean looked a touch exasperated by his words. “I _told_ you how I felt. I don’t say sappy shit a lot, Armin, but I really did mean it. I’ve always wanted to be your friend.” He gestured to the card as his smile morphed into a grin.

“Did that not make it clear?”

Armin felt embarrassed for presuming Jean hadn’t been honest, but it had always been a challenge to _not_ self-depreciate. Armin knew he was boring, and his extreme social anxiety inhibited him from reaching any potential he might have to be better.

“Crystal,” was what the boy said instead of dropping the load weighing his mind down.

“I wanted to say I—” It wasn’t easy to stare into the intensity of Jean’s eyes. “I want to be your friend, too.” He raked his teeth across his lip. “And… going to _Starbucks_ was fun. We should do it again.” Armin decided he’d try to be extraverted, as strenuous aa it may’ve been.

Jean’s elation was palpable. Armin wouldn’t say it wasn’t heartening; He left nothing to the imagination concerning his desire to spend time with him. It made Armin happy, he’d admit, though he still felt strange about his inability to get a read on why.

 _I just don’t get it. Why would someone like Jean want to be_ my _friend?_

That uncertainty was stubborn and pervasive, though he’d do his best to quiet it. Jean was genuine. Armin had to recognize that despite his hang-ups.

“Do you have plans for today?” Jean pulled his beanie over the brown tresses crowning his head.

“Well,” Armin blinked. “I was going to go visit my grandfather—”

“I mean plans that _don’t_ involve that.” Jean chuckled at the shorter teen. “What would you be doing if you weren’t at the hospital?”

Armin was unwilling to answer that. He knew his reply would only fuel the notion of Armin being so tiringly mundane.

“Probably at home reading, or writing…” He looked upward. “Or playing strategy games. That’s always fun.” He adjusted his backpack and smiled a fraction.

Jean looked like he was about to start laughing, but he didn’t. He grinned at him and shook his head. “Today, we’re doing something different.”

Armin had yet to decide how he felt about his domineering personality.

“Well start at _Starbucks_ and go from there. Okay?”

It didn’t seem like there was room for refusal, though Armin didn’t want that. It was then that he realized he wholeheartedly wanted to hang out with Jean. It would be a nice change to be in someone’s company that wasn’t himself or his grandfather.

“Okay,” Armin said, displaying his tremulous excitement when he smiled.

\---

“Oh, fuck.” Jean chuckled. “I sang this song at my second grade Christmas pageant.”

He looked embarrassed, which caused Armin to chuckle along with him. “Silent Night” was playing throughout _Starbucks_. Armin hummed the tune idly while he every so often brought his latte up to his lips.

Today, he deviated from his usual and tried out Jean’s drink from Wednesday— an eggnog latte. It didn’t have a terrible taste (Armin had yet to find something from _Starbucks_ that wasn’t yummy), but there was nothing like a peppermint mocha to satisfy his stagnant tastes.

Hopefully, they’d be sticking around long enough for him to get a second drink.

“Is there anything the all-talented Jean Kirschstein can’t do?” Armin snorted, the words aiming to tease. “You play sports, you sing…”

“I paint, too.” Jean’s face seemed to be made for cocky grins. The one he sported right then provoked Armin to laughter. “Of course you do.” He sat back on the couch in the upper level’s sitting area.

Jean had his beverage in a large hand. Armin tried (and failed) to not marvel at how deliciously _long and slender_ his fingers were.

“And I don’t really sing,” Jean pointed out after a second. “It’s just a talent, but I have no passion for it. I think I’d like to pursue a career in visual art.” He got a dreamy look about him when he drew some of his latte into his mouth.

“Or maybe I’ll go culinary school. I do really love cooking.” Jean sat his cup down and shrugged. “Still undecided.” He was concerningly _laidback_ to be discussing something so gravely important.

Armin held the other boy’s eyes with his blue ones. “You do know it’s almost time to send in applications, right? We’re juniors.”

Armin himself had sent some already. He was confident his academic prowess would give him a leg up over other applicants— It was just a matter of researching schools and deciding where he wantrd to go.

“Yes, Mom. I know what grade we’re in.” Jean sighed slightly. “I don’t plan on starting college as soon as we graduate, though. I’m spending a year in Europe.”

He was visibly proud to bestow the knowledge. Armin placed his cup on the table in the center of the lounge sitting area.

“Wow, Europe?” Armin was impressed, and also pleased that Jean was showing some kind of direction. “That sounds _amazing_. God, I’m envious...” His lips curled into a small grin and he looked at the body next to his on the couch.

“Do you know whereabouts in Europe you want to go?”

Jean brought up his drink, tipping his head back and finishing off the warm beverage. He wiped his mouth with his hand.

“I definitely wanna go to Italy, France and Spain…” he said after swallowing. “From there, I’m not sure. Might just make my way around depending on the moment.” He made himself more comfortable on the corduroy throw pillow at his back.

“My parents met in Spain,” Armin informed, glad to talk about them despite their absent position in his life. “My father was traveling and my mom was a teacher there back in the day.” Armin smiled.

“Damn, for real?” Jean’s eyes enlarged somewhat. “That’s really cool, holy shit. So can you speak any Spanish?”

Armin drank up what was left of his eggnog latte. “Hardly.” The boy laughed. “I can greet people and tell them my name. That’s it.” Armin opted not to tell Jean the whole of it— that he’d not spent enough time with his mother for her to teach him a language.

“Still, that’s cool,” the larger boy said to him, meaning it. “You know, it’s crazy. You’re the first person I’ve told about Europe that didn’t say it was stupid.” Jean appeared of equal parts surprised and happy.

Armin’s whole face was doused in kindness. “It’s not stupid, Jean. Honestly, it’ll be such a beneficial learning experience… and not only that, but you’ll have _so much fun_ spending a year overseas.”

Armin nudged the other’s knee gently with his own. “The more we talk about it, the more jealous I’m becoming.”  He laughed.

“You should tell my mom all this.” Jean’s own laughter was bitter. “She thinks it’s a waste. According to her, I should start my academic future immediately rather than ‘gallivanting around the world for a year’.” Jean enunciated that with air quotations.

“Marco has a similar philosophy, but I’m not too surprised. The guy’s wanted to be a cop since he came out of the womb.” His displeasure wasn’t subtle. “He’s never really gotten with people being unsure about what they want to do.”

“Yeah, but it’s your life.” Armin disregarded the inclination toward voicing his opinions about _planning for the future._ It was clear Jean got enough of it already.

“You should just do what makes you happy.” He flashed a smile. “Whether it’s visual or culinary art… No one can make that choice for you.” He looked to his cup, mourning its emptiness.

There was a second of Jean just staring at the blond, awe and happiness lifting his elongated features. He seemed to dash away whatever inhibitions were plaguing him when he asked:

“Do you want to come to mine and have dinner later?”

Armin had to do a mental double take. Jean just kept breaking down his conjectures about him at every turn. One only need look to know how earnest and sincere he was about his proposal.

 _I hardly know this guy and already he’s made me feel more wanted than I’ve felt in ages…_ Armin pressed his tongue to the inside of his cheek thoughtfully.

Jean didn’t take well to the silence. “My mom made some jambalaya yesterday and there’s still so much left.” He hoped it would be enough to persuade him. “Like, I think she might’ve overestimated how much two people can eat.” He chuckled.

Armin was ashamed at how quickly, and without any effort, he made up his mind. If he was honest, he had been lured in as soon as Jean posed the question. Armin was wary of this fondness he was harboring for a boy he _didn’t even know._

“You had me at ‘jambalaya’.” Armin grinned. He had him at the first part of his suggestion, truly, but he was not about to admit that.

“Oh yeah?” Jean tilted his head sideways. His attempt to keep the excitement off his face had no effect. “Well, okay cool! I’ll get us some refills and then, you wanna head out?”

“Mhm, that sounds good.” Armin’s smile might not have been on the same scale, but it was still bare to see. He touched Jean’s arm when he started to vacate his place on the couch.

“Hey, wait. Can you get me a peppermint mocha this time?”

Was Armin imagining that flicker of tenderness in his eyes? He must’ve been; there was no plausible reason for Jean to look at him that way. But he could’ve sworn he’d seen it...

_What does that mean?_

“Grande, right?” Jean yanked him from his thoughts. Armin recovered himself in an instant.

“Yes please.” He smiled and watched the male walk off, feeling the sudden and all-consuming urge to text Eren and _rave to him_ about this.

He did just that.

\---

“Will I be meeting your family?” Armin asked, his drink held within small hands. If so, mental preparation would be in order.

“Nah, it’ll be just us.” Jean seemed to be glad for that. He bit into one of the cake pops from the shared bag on the tabletop. “Mom’s working late at the hospital tonight so I’d say she’s leaving right now.”

He looked at his iPhone to check the time. “Thank God for that. The woman makes it her mission to embarrass me whenever I bring a new friend over.” Jean grumbled.

It was validating to hear him referred to as such. _Friends._ That was what they were. Perhaps it could explain the odd upset in his stomach that occurred most times when they looked at each other.

“Parents are wont to do that.” Armin chuckled. He delighted in the familiar taste of his mocha, then turned a sidelong glance on Jean. “So… it’s just you and your mom?”

“Yeah.” Jean nodded. “I mean, I have a stepdad and a stepsister but they don’t live with us anymore.”

Armin waited to see if his companion was going to elaborate.

“He and my mom divorced and he took his daughter when he left,” he continued as Armin thought. “I think I was maybe thirteen when it happened? Eh, I don’t remember.”

Armin felt for him right then. The bounds the emotion reached were something he’d not expected.

 _Unexpected._ That was definitely an appropriate descriptive term for all this. Armin wasn’t sure he had the mental capacity to truly deal with Jean and this very blatant _yearning_ he had for friendship.

But was that all it was? Armin suspected there could be more to discover… but that might just be a product of over-analyzation. His tendency to do so often prevented him from seeing the truth.

“I’m sorry, Jean.” Armin wondered if it was received as genuine amidst his mental trip.

Jean spared a chuckle and shook his head to assure him that he was fine. “Don’t be. The guy is a verbally-abusive dick.” He raised his gingerbread latte to his lips.

“My mom’s always had shit taste in men. I never knew my dad, but the stories she tells me about him make that abundantly clear.” His chuckle grew into a peal of firm laughter.

But the empathy Armin experienced didn’t waver. He gazed into his narrowed eyes, wanting to project his feelings. “Still, it’s unpleasant,” he said when he exhaled. “No one would choose to have to go through that.”

“True. But it wasn’t so bad.” Jean shrugged. “So, hey, same question directed at you. It’s just you and your grandfather living alone?”

Armin nipped at the pad of his thumb. He was hesitant to share those details with someone he’d spent all of _two days_ with. Sure, he and Jean were friends— and friends _told each other_ things— but his private nature wasn’t something the boy could so easily overlook. All things considered though, he surprised himself with his willingness to try.

“Yes,” Armin answered. He could only hope Jean didn’t think much of that pause. “My mom died before I really had a chance to remember her.  My dad… He’s been across the world studying archaeology for over a decade now.” The apathy he spoke through might’ve come off a little odd.

“He sends me things from time to time, but he’s not really _present_ in my life. He hasn’t been for a while.” Armin severed his emotional ties with his father long ago. Now, talking about him was akin to dispassionately reading the pages of one of his books to someone.

Jean picked up on his dissociative attitude well. A consoling hand laid atop the boy’s shoulder.

“Fuck…” He bore into pearlescent blue eyes. “I can only imagine how shitty that must be for you.” Jean frowned, though there was a morbidly amused undertone Armin noticed. “Looks like we’ve both been suffering from negligent fathers.”

The laugh that escaped Armin lacked any humor. He wondered if it was in bad taste that he felt this was something for them to bond over. “Cheers to that.” Armin mockingly pressed his coffee cup to Jean’s.

With a wry smile, the other teen shifted to look at the window. “The sun is setting.” He sat up straight again. “We should probably get going soon, yeah? I’d like to be out of here before it becomes unbearably cold.” Jean’s gaze darted back to Armin for consent.

“That _would_ be ideal.” The blond was wearing only the wraith of a smile. “But… it’s mid-December, Jean. Being cold is pretty much inescapable.” They both chuckled, finding it distressingly true.

“You’re right,” Jean agreed. “The weather app says it’s gonna drop into the teens tonight. Good I’ll be witnessing that from inside my warm apartment.”  A smirk stretched wide across his lips. Meanwhile, Armin was pouting around his beverage.

“Jesus…” It was inconvenient, yet unsurprising for this time of year. “Well, I’ll definitely be Uber-ing home after we have dinner then.” He nodded to cement the decision. “I was trying to conserve money and _not_ use that service so much but…” He nestled back into his woolen coat to accentuate his point. “I’d rather I’d not die.”

Jean smirked, his eyes shining with a steadfast candor. “I’d rather that too.” He seemed to think naught of being painfully blunt, whether or not the situation called for it. Armin found it intriguing, among the other things he felt.

_You fascinate me, Jean Kirschstein._

The blond leaned into the couch. He spared his _friend_ a final look before turning to watch the snowfall through the window.

_\---_

Armin and Jean were posted at the bus stop directly across the _Starbucks_ on the other sidewalk. According to his hazel-eyed schoolmate, it was more practical than hailing a taxi or going by Uber since the bus came right to his apartment. Armin had no qualms save for his silent aversion to being in the cold for too long.

For a person with such an avid penchant for Christmas, his susceptibility to cold weather was definitely hindersome. But Armin saw no option but to bear it. He was not about to trample on the season of merriment.

“It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas,” Jean sang into the evening air with a closed-eye smile.

 _He really has a nice voice..._ Armin smiled as well. He huddled inward to steal whatever warmth he could. He tried to ignore the quake of his fingers inside his gloves, the clatter in his teeth.

When Jean’s eyes fell on him though, his cover was blown. There was a deeply worried frown that overtook the other boy’s face.

“Fuck,” Jean gawked at him. “you’re shivering so bad!”

“…I am?” Armin glanced at the sky with a small, frustrated sigh. Panic seeped in. Drawing attention to himself was what he wanted least.

“Sorry.” Armin looked back at Jean. “I’m… kinda anemic. I don’t really do well in cold…” He felt inexplicably bashful. “I mean it’s manageable if I’m not in it for too long, but it’s _ridiculous_ out here right now…”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Jean’s worry was enduring. The distance between them lessened when he stepped closer.

“I figured…” Armin cleared his throat and began again. “I just didn’t wanna burden you... It can’t really be helped, you know? I can deal, I just—”

“Okay, _no_.” Jean muted his blathering with the decisive removal of his scarf. “You should’ve just told me. I may not be swimming in cash, but I can afford an Uber. If I had known, I wouldn’t have suggested we stand at the bus stop…”

He looked only partly guilty, the rest of him bothered that Armin withheld the truth from him. Then, the scarf encircled the blond completely and his expression went dubious.

“But…” The other’s audacity was baffling to him. “Jean… this is… Don’t you need your scarf?” The level of Armin’s shyness was honestly _disgraceful._

Jean insistently shook his head. “You need it more, Armin.” He tugged his friend in by way of the scarf, adjusting the thick, cable-knit fabric for maximum warmth. Armin would concede that it was palliative to the chill coursing through him.

“Here I thought you were joking around when you said you didn’t wanna die.” Jean’s smirk was slightly lopsided.  

_Pinecones… Jean smells like pinecones. Pinecones with a hint of something spicy…_

“Jean…” Armin gazed up at him, startled by the decreased proximity and how stunningly _close_ their faces became. “it’s Winter. I don’t feel right wearing this...” He struggled to seem unaffected.

 “Well, I don’t feel right seeing you shiver like a wet animal,” Jean shot back, looking incredibly sheepish when he seemed to realize the intimacy he’d created. The teens stared at one another, two pairs of eyes cautious and wide with an unspoken anticipation…

Then, sniggering to their right abruptly jolted them from the shared reverie. It was Armin who looked over first. He thwarted the profuse apologies that came up in his throat.

Three girls, appearing to be in middle school, were walking past with clear disdain written on their faces. They failed to keep their repulsed noises quiet. It was right then Armin felt he would die of shame.

“You got a problem?” Jean’s hands lowered and he turned to face the friend-group. His eyes narrowed hatefully.

“ _Get lost.”_

The girls were obviously intimidated by his aggression. The speed in which they shuffled off was noted, and it seemed to please Jean quite thoroughly. His self-satisfied smirk was _stifling_ to witness.

“Jean, they were kids,” Armin admonished. “I don’t think you should’ve—”

“Those girls were _bitches_.” Jean said it at a volume that there was a high likelihood they heard. “Had they continued, you better believe I would’ve put them in their place.” He crossed his arms like a belligerent child.

Armin didn’t think such measures were necessary. He betted his unresponsiveness sufficed to depict him that.

The boy was relieved when the bus pulled up. One glimpse into a window told him there weren’t many people occupying the vehicle. For that, Armin was thankful; The probability of forced conversation was low.

They both scanned their student metro cards and boarded the bus, climbing the two stairs to the backmost seats. Armin and Jean were the only two in that section. The blond was overjoyed by the solitude.

“So how long until your house?” Now sitting, Armin put his metro card away into his wallet.

“Not long,” Jean replied. “We’re at the end of the line already. My apartment complex is the second-to-last stop on this route.” There was a pause between them, then light brown eyes aroused Armin’s attention again.

“You’re okay about what happened, right?” His tone was demanding of a reply.

Armin would assume Jean meant about the kids. Truthfully, he cared not for those insolent girls. _What_ they’d reacted to though, that was something different. That moment with Jean wasn’t something Armin was like to forget anytime soon.

“I’m fine.” He dismissed his friend’s concerns with a cajoling upturn of his lips. “Are _you_ though? You looked about ready to kill those girls.” Armin was still against the hostile approach Jean had taken.

“I have no tolerance for people like that,” was the taller boy’s unapologetic answer. “I’m just a little _too used_ to dealing with ignorance.” The spite in his eyes was tangible.

 “My stepdad’s a homophobic asshole. To this day, I couldn’t tell you what my mom ever saw in that dude.” Folded hands rested on his knees.

Relaying it was still enough to anger him. Armin tried to disarm him with his warm demeanor. “Love doesn’t always align with what’s right, I guess,” he supplied.

Jean peeled off his beanie and fixed the dishevelment that was his hair. He nodded to the blond to show he understood, then checked their surroundings through the frosted window. “We should be there in like five minutes.”

Hearing that, Armin bit his lip. There was trepidation about going to Jean’s house, though Armin did find solace when he remembered they’d be alone. No new people he had to fret over meeting.

Still, they were going to _be alone._ He knew he hadn’t imagined that spark at the bus stop. And coupled with that strange look Jean gave him before… Armin was _flummoxed,_ and quite nervous about what might transpire.

_Okay, I hardly even know this guy! Attraction aside, I won’t jump him just because there’s no one around._

No, he wouldn’t. Armin could restrain himself and his shallow, baser instincts. He didn’t enjoy getting physical without _some_ kind of romantic connection, anyway. Jean pushing the “stop requested” button next to their seats restored Armin’s attention.

“Mmm, I’m craving that jambalaya something fierce.” The blond made the announcement as if nothing had gone amiss. He secured the scarf— _Jean’s_ scarf— around his neck and tried not to think too hard about how _good_ he smelled.

The bus came to a halt seconds later. Armin spotted the high-rise apartment building just outside and hastily rose, following Jean down and out of the bus.

“Just in time for the sun to set,” Jean said, breathing in the crisp evening air. He looked down at the slighter male beside him. “Are you warm enough?”

Armin had to smile. He never stopped being amazed by this apparent care Jean had for him. It was completely mind-boggling, but also nice.

“I’m fine.” Armin’s voice was light. “The scarf definitely helps, so thank you.” He touched the chunky garment with gloved fingers.

Jean smiled back, satisfied. “I knew it would.”

Together, they skirted around the ice on the ground while journeying to his apartment building. Jean unlocked the double doors with the sensor and they opened automatically. Armin thanked the heavens for that gust of warmth from above when they entered.

“The elevators are down here. C’mon.” Jean guided him along the hallway on the left side of the foyer. The walls were aesthetically lined with Roman artwork. Armin felt self-conscious about tracking snow with his boots, but Jean didn’t seem to care.

“This is a nice building,” the blond complimented as he surveyed the lay of the space.

“Thanks.” Jean smiled some. “You wouldn’t _believe_ the amount of maintenance problems, though. It’s pretty to look at, but it’s fucking faulty.” Jean pressed a button between the two elevators. “Mom and I plan to leave when our lease is up.”

He said it in a curiously nonchalant tone and Armin didn’t know how to feel. They’d only decided to be friends less than twenty-four hours ago and yet he had taken a fierce (albeit inadvertent) liking to the other’s company. Going by the happenings of the day, Armin was averse to the idea of giving this up. But he wouldn’t show Jean his weakness.

“Will you like… be moving far away?”

Jean’s smirk called upon his timidity. He was aware of the front, seeing the faultily-placed feelings lying underneath.

“Not far away.” Jean stepped into the elevator when it arrived and Armin trailed in with him. “We’ll be staying in the city, just moving to a different neighborhood.” His gaze said “you don’t need to worry”.

Armin chose to be calm despite his highly-strung nerves. This friendship was so new and precarious; He would do well to preserve it and _not_ come off as crazy.

“That’s cool.” The blond’s smile was small but kind. “You know, Jean, I don’t… Well, I’ve never, um, had many friends.” Armin averted his gaze, embarrassed by the confession. “I’ll admit this is nice. So, yeah. I’d be kinda bummed if you left.”

The elevator doors opened just as Jean caught him with a smirk. “Only ‘kinda’?” he prodded, searching for the truth. The stare was unfailingly relentless and— Wait, was that a flirtatious edge he detected?

Mouth dry, Armin felt his recently-mustered courage slip into obscurity . The blond became impossibly meek; He doubted any conviction could be salvaged at this point. But he still tried to forget his unrestful temperament. Jean was not fazed, his composure only reminding Armin of his own customary (and extremely oppressive) nervousness.

“Afraid so.” The blond smiled to divert any hints of disquietude. Upon his exit of the elevator, cerulean eyes moved first to Jean, then he looked from side to side. “What’s your apartment number?”

“917.” His schoolmate slid up next to him and jerked his head to the left. “It’s down this hallway.”

Armin went with Jean to the specified area of the ninth floor. The hallway was carpeted and bedecked with artwork like downstairs. Armin admired the elegant grandeur of it.

“In my grandfather’s house, there’s this room in the basement completely dedicated to art,” he said, smiling. “A lot of it’s been filled up by my dad. He always sends us pieces when he goes travelling.”

“The Art Room”, as the Arlert men dubbed it, was Armin’s favorite place to be in his grandfather’s house. Oftentimes he’d be found there instead of his bedroom, curled up on the leather loveseat with his nose buried in a book.

Jean grinned at the boy. “That sounds like my kind of room,” he enthused. “You know, I’ve always had an appreciation for art. Sometimes I go with my mom to visit galleries. Can’t claim to know much about it, but it’s sure nice to look at.”

His admission seemed legitimate— devoid of any attempts to impress him.

_First, Jean was reading that book in the  cafeteria… and now, he’s showing interest in art?_

Armin was _mystified_ at this warmth he was developing (at a bizarrely rapid rate) for this guy and these previously unearthed facets of him.

 _This is freaking troublesome,_ the blond thought with an accompanying, nearly inaudible sigh. He hugged his middle as the lissome boy unlocked what Armin figured was his front door. There was a Christmas wreath hanging over the top.

He was ushered into the small, yet luxurious apartment. Underfoot were wooden planks to take him into a living room decorated with neutrally-colored, upholstered furnishings. Armin spotted a shoerack across from the door and a mat for dusting off the elements before walking around the apartment. He swiftly unbuttoned his peacoat. He laid it, along with Jean’s scarf— _God, it smelled so good_ — over the coatrack and crouched to unlace his Timberland boots.

Jean was removing his outerwear as well. His skinny legs, hugged oh-so-nicely in a form-fitting pair of jeans, stuck out of his padded down coat. Armin felt uncomfortable at the battle it took _not_ to stare.

Once the boys stowed their garments away in the respective areas, the both of them rounded the corner into Jean’s living room.

“Welcome to _Casa de Kirschstein._ ” Jean’s acknowledgement of the place was lively. His arms gestured in an over-dramatized way. Armin expelled a few titters. He studied the perimeter, smiling approvingly while he digested what he saw.

Before long, his eyes were drawn to the focal point of the room. A large Christmas tree overstuffed with ornaments was posed beside a mauve fabric recliner. The captivatingly _garish_ thing was topped with a pair of glittery, silver bells wound in mistletoe and berries. Multicolored ribbon streamed down the sides, and it was more-than-adequately strung in red-and-green LED lights.

“That may just be the actual embodiment of Christmas,” Armin remarked, capturing Jean with a whimsical grin.

Jean reciprocated his lighthearted disposition. “It’s gorgeous, isn’t it?” The natural air of confidence he exuded told Armin he needed no response.

“The other decorations still need to be picked up from storage,” Jean was saying to him, “so Mom and I decided to go all out. For now, this is our only representation of Christmas.” He gazed proudly at the tree that was fashioned artificially of tinsel.

Armin giggled. “It’s definitely the belle of the ball.”

He did enjoy toying with him, but truthfully, he thought it was a rather sightly object. The boy conveyed that with the gentle smile claiming his lips.

“Shall I heat up the jambalaya now?” Jean asked him, exhibiting a potent benevolence Armin felt was out for his blood. But he dashed aside his mental disturbance, cloaking it by continuing to smile.

“Yes, please.” He nodded eagerly. Big blue eyes slotted shut while he conjured up possibilities of how the dish might taste.

“Jeanny?”

Then, he was stopped short. The interfering voice was one Armin wasn’t familiar with. Confused, he followed Jean in looking toward the source of the call.

There was a third person in the living room. A woman. Armin noticed the portly frame and the face laden with wrinkles. Her brunet hair was done in a low ponytail and her eyes, large and shaped like almonds, were the same hazel-brown hue as Jean’s.

 _Is this Jean’s mother?_ Armin already knew the answer to his own question, though it only furthered his confusion. His thoughts reverted to Jean mentioning his mother leaving for work sometime closer to the four o’clock hour. Now, evenfall had descended and there was no sun to speak of.  

“Mom…” Jean pronounced unsurely. It appeared he was equally as perplexed by her being there. “What’re you doing here? Shouldn’t you be at work?”

“I slept through my alarm.” Jean’s mother spoke thickly in a Cajun accent. _Interesting._ Her eyes plastered to Armin and he felt himself recoil from the formidable demeanor.

“You brought a friend over?”

Jean looked to be apologizing with his eyes, like he felt guilty that Armin had to deal with his mother.

“Yeah.” Jean motioned to the blue-eyed boy with his hands. “This is Armin.” He smiled as he introduced him. “He goes to Blighton too, yanno.”

The woman’s mouth tugged into a slight smile of her own. “Armin, huh?” Her eyes never left the waiflike creature standing in her living room. “Yes, I do recall Jean mentioning you before,” she said, causing her son to choke on his saliva. He definitely saw the expeditious reddening of his ears.

“Mom, _seriously?_ ” Jean glared at her irately. “I literally talked about him once! Can you _not_ be embarrassing for like five fucking seconds?” He pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger.

Armin’s brows shot up as he watched the two interact: Jean’s mother grinning wickedly while inquiring on how she was even being embarrassing, and Jean grumbling in irritation.

Armin didn’t know what to say to any of this. For a time, he was rendered speechless. He was still trying to cope with this knowledge that Jean had _spoken about him_ to his mother. It had been but hours since their agreement to be friends. Not even _a day_ had passed. How would he have had the time?

Armin felt desperate for an explanation. He’d be sure to corner Jean with an interrogation when they were alone again (because what the actual hell?!), but currently, there was something else he needed to assess. Armin pushed down his apprehension to a less-engaged part of his mind.

“Armin,” Jean’s mother regarded him after mollifying her son the best she could. For a woman of her stature, she gave off quite a daunting aura.

“you may call me Desiree,” she told him,” Or Ms. Kirschstein. Whichever you prefer.” Desiree’s (Armin didn’t think he could get behind calling her that) smile was as thin as her hair, meaning very much so.

“I… think I’ll just settle for Ms. Kirschstein.” Armin could only hope his discomfort didn’t translate into the graciousness of his smile.

Desiree nodded her head to make it known that she respected his choice. Even with only knowing her for a short while, Armin deduced that she was not the warm mother type. But Jean seemed to care for her greatly, or at least he concluded that from the comment about him bringing her dinner.

Armin thought it sweet at the time. Even if he’d only sputtered it to save face, it had done exceptionally well at endearing his friend to him.

Desiree went on to say that yes she was late for work, but her boss altered her shift so she was filling in for one of her “sick” coworkers that had called out. She was scheduled to be at the hospital in less than two hours.

“I have to get ready for work,” stated the stout woman. Her dialect made her words sound so melodic and pretty, Armin thought. He was all the more covetous of the jambalaya now that he knew it had been made by someone hailing from the South.

Armin wondered about Jean’s childhood. There just _had_ to be some titillating details surrounding his upbringing left to uncover. He made certain to add it to the queue of things he meant to ask Jean about at a later point.

The beanstalk at his side carded his fingers through his hair as he spoke to his mother. “Do you want some food before you go?” He blinked at her. “I was just about to heat up some of the jambalaya for Armin and me.”

Jean clarified that he had invited Armin over for dinner. Desiree sent him a secret smile (one she thought Armin didn’t see), and then shook her head.

“I was already planning to grab something from _Subway._ ” She extended her hand and gently patted her son on the arm. “Don’t worry about me, Jeanny. I wouldn’t want to be an imposition anyway.”

She retracted and momentarily glanced at Armin. “You boys enjoy your dinner.” It came off more like a command.

“You’re not imposing, Ms. Kirschstein. This is your home,” Armin reassured the Cajun woman in a cordial manner.“There’s really no chance you might eat here?”

Jean’s mother looked between the two teenagers and once more shook her head. Her face was rooted in solemnness.

“I had some of the jambalaya for brunch and I took some to work yesterday,” she brought to their attention. “I’ll be glad for a different taste in my mouth.”

“Fine, fine,” Jean relented. “Just make sure you do eat, Ma. And I mean more than once.” He eyed the brunette sternly. Armin couldn’t say he’d ever seen such a look from him before. “You tend to ‘forget’ when you’re working.”

Desiree humored her son with a partial smile. His height was only emphasized when she craned to muss up his hair.

“I’ll be sure to remember this time,” she promised. “But I do need to get ready for work. I have to be out of here by six-thirty.” She leaned back so she stood properly again.

Armin read the time off the analog wall-clock beside a framed piece of scenery art. He discerned that it was just shy of half-past five _._

“It was brief, but still I enjoyed meeting you, Ms. Kirschstein,” Armin said to the woman that gave even him an illusion of being tall.

Desiree bowed her head somewhat and bid them both a good evening before she retreated back down the hall. When she was out of earshot, the blond smirked up at the taller boy.

“So… Jeanny?”

“ _Don’t_.” Jean hissed in warning. His huffiness only kindled the fire of Armin’s mirth though; He couldn’t _not_ laugh while he went with Jean the short distance to the kitchen.

“I know it’s dorky.” Jean peered at the ivory ceiling as he groaned. “I wish she’d stop. But it started when I was too young to protest and now, it’s a habit.”

The Kirschstein kitchen was narrow. It housed a single row of counterspace— a sink, a stove, an overhead microwave and other appliances— with the refrigerator and the pantry shelving unit on the opposite wall.

 “II think t’s a cute pet-name.” Armin smiled tauntingly. While the need to pick on him was strong, he didn’t misspeak. It _was_ cute. He padded to the table in the corner the instant he and Jean passed the open threshold of the kitchen.

The boy settled on one of the barstools (he tried not to make the action look too difficult) and turned it outward to face Jean.

“You say cute, I say embarrassing,” Jean grunted, teeming with aggravation. He approached the chrome refrigerator and pulled at the door.

“Do you want anything to go with the jambalaya?” With his muscular arms, Jean fetched a metal pot and sat it down on the stove. “The rice adds a lot of weight but I could also throw some mashed potatoes in the microwave.” His gaze redirected to the blond at the table. “And I made some banana bread the other day, too.”

“Mm, I _love_ banana bread!” Armin’s appetite grew voracious. “Honestly, Jean, jambalaya is sufficient. But… can I have some banana bread, too?” He ensnared him with his eyes alone, smiling like the little coquette Jean felt convinced was hiding behind his guise of innocence.

“’Course you can,” the taller of the two replied smoothly. He twisted a knob and brought the electric burner to medium heat.

As the jambalaya warmed, Armin traced Jean’s movements with his eyes. The brown-haired male was pulling a foil-wrapped loaf from the fridge. He smiled when he sensed Armin watching him.

Something about that particular visage elicited swooning that made Armin shift uncomfortably. Their eyes locked, and the look was reminiscent of earlier that day in _Starbucks_ — then again at the bus stop.

Armin would like to play dumb when it came to the underlying meaning. But that was pointless. He knew, as he had for some time, it had been _dangerously close_ to what the prelude to a kiss felt like. And oddly, no disgust arose. It would be remiss of Armin to belittle Jean’s appeal; He was fun to be around, and there was some noteworthy chemistry between them, even at such an early stage.

That, and it was so refreshing hanging with a guy that wasn’t shy about how madly he _longed_ to be friends.

Armin pondered what Jean revealed to him on Wednesday, and then the message in the candy cane gram. _He admired me..._ Jean had even talked about him to his mother, allegedly.

His thoughts finally came full circle. Armin’s need to know the context of whatever he had said reemerged, and perhaps it was more concentrated than it had been.

“What did you say to your mother about me?” Armin’s fingernails pierced the cushion of the stool under his thigh. “She made that comment about you mentioning me before and… What was it about?” There was a part of him that was slightly fearful of how he would respond.

Jean’s face became pensive. He moved a cursory glance to the stove and then his eyes slid back to Armin.

“It was nothing,” he said in a defensive tone. “I wasn’t even talking _to_ her.” Jean hands clasped the handle that was to open the oven. A dish towel was folded over it.

“She just overhead me on the phone with Marco yesterday.” Never once did Jean break the stare between them. “We were talking about my plan to send you a candy cane gram. That was all.”

“Oh.” Biting his lip, Armin spared a tiny smile. He thought on Marco unveiling the information that Jean had been _excited_ to send him one of the Christmas confections. Before, it had been hard to contemplate, but in the span of hours, Armin understood.

Jean had done nothing but proclaim a want to be around him. It was a foreign sentiment, one Armin hadn’t been exposed to in a while— so of course, he was unversed in how to counter it.

His mind sent him into shyness again. He brushed back his fringe, finding the flower centerpiece on the table more inviting to look at than the handsome boy presently fixing their plates.

“What would you like to drink?” Jean asked as he opened one of drawers beside the sink. He grabbed silverware for him and Armin to use. “We have… lemonade, cranberry juice, Canada Dry… Or you can just have water.”

Armin pursed his lips and weighted his options. He mulled over it while Jean transferred a helping of the sausage-and-meat concoction into a wide-mouthed bowl with a ladle.

“I think I’ll have cranberry juice,” Armin decided aloud. He repositioned himself on the barstool so his heels rested on the bottom ledge.

“Oh, fuck.” Jean chuckled while spreading margarine on a reheated-by-the-microwave slice of banana bread. “I was gonna have cranberry juice too. We’re kindred spirits.”

The information made the blond giddy to an inconceivable degree. The world was _ridden_ with lovers of cranberry juice, as he well knew. It was beyond him why he even felt such an affinity for this congruence with Jean.

But Armin wasn’t in the mood to wrack his brain and pinpoint the reason. He chose to focus on the plate of food Jean had set out before him. He rubbed his palms together as he eyeballed the savory-looking array.

“This looks _delish_ , Jean.” Armin readily picked his fork off the paper napkin. He met caramel eyes when Jean dropped into the stool across from him.

“It tastes even more so.” He grinned in that typical, cocksure way of his. Armin sunk his fork into his jambalaya.

“I bet.” He grinned back at him.

\---

The pinnacle of Winter didn’t hit until January. Weeks previous had only hinted at the _bone-chilling cold­_ that lay in wait for the new year.

It was so cold, in fact, that Armin was disinclined to leave his home when he wasn’t travelling to and from school. He made his obligatory visits to the hospital of course, and went out with Jean occasionally (coffee dates had become their regular), but for the most part, the boy was a recluse.

It was now the third week in January. The ending of finals heralded Blighton Day School’s unanimous attention-shift to the approaching Sweethearts Ball (an annual Valentine’s Day dance traditionally organized by the upperclassmen) and who was going with who.

Meaning all the nonsense Armin decidedly didn’t partake in.

Being surrounded by over-achievers at his private school didn’t affect Armin’s loser status. He was still a misfit, and his “friends” at school stayed confined to the mandatory eight hours every weekday.

Except one.

It was still incomprehensible that the popular Jean Kirschstein chose to be friends with _him_ of all people— a boy that was so unvaried and humdrum.

The amazement didn’t cease, even with this month-long padding. Even after Armin admitted Jean had fast transformed into his preferred person to spend his time with.

That lengthy text exchange on New Year’s Eve seemed to put them on a daily-communication basis. Armin wasn’t mad about it. He was honestly very pleasantly surprised.

Jean had shot him a text the afternoon of December 31st intending to “check in”. It had escalated into the two of them messaging back and forth for the better part of the day though, and well into the early hours of the next one.

Armin had not been opposed. That year marked the first he wasn’t in Times Square celebrating the holiday with Eren and Mikasa. Shelving his heartache about not seeing them wasn’t as easy as he thought it would be.

Jean had done his job as a supportive friend when Armin unloaded his woes: That lately, he felt like a third wheel, and he missed how close they were _before_ Eren and Mikasa became an official couple. But after saying that, Armin turned about-face and started lamenting his guilt for even feeling that way.

Jean’s reply was that he needed to confront them, that it wouldn’t be resolved otherwise. But he also explained that perhaps Eren and Mikasa needed their time to be together and eventually, the three of them could work out how they could return to what they once were without Armin feeling left out.

 _But in the meantime, you have me_. Jean had ended the slew of texts with that, wanting to uplift Armin with his playfulness.

Armin had smiled at his phone. He had to accept that it would be extremely counterproductive to deny his budding crush on Jean. It was just… not what he’d planned, nor what he was used to. Armin couldn’t even remember the last time he felt for someone in the romantic sense.

But it was becoming clear to him that liking Jean was unavoidable. The handsome youth was such a beacon in Armin’s dull, unfortunate life-– The light in his foggy sky. It was incredible what he’d achieved in such a short period.

Armin suspected his own situation had a hand in it, though. It made sense that he would migrate to Jean in his search for sanctuary while weathering such _dreariness._

 _Examining the reason won’t change how I feel._ Armin knew it was probably excessive, but it comforted him and gave him peace of mind.

He blew out a sigh while he lay down on his memory foam bed. He seized his phone and held the sleek device aloft so he could see the screen. Armin opened his gaming applications folder, feeling uninspired as he perused options of what he might play.

_This will not do._

His prolonged denial of what he _really_ wanted though, Armin knew it was of no use to anyone. After an introspective moment, he lightly pressed the messaging feature on his phone and selected a preexisting thread.

Seeing Jean’s contact name activated an inrush of emotions. The most protrusive was his _need_ to talk to him. It would be easier to do this without the handicap of Armin habitually second-guessing everything (himself included).

 _You know what? Screw it._ He’d reached a sudden resolution. _Anxiety be damned._ Armin’s fingertips swept his touch-keypad. He composed a text to the boy that had been monopolizing his mind since December.  

_Hey, you busy?_

It was innocent enough as not to reveal Armin’s intense emotions. Jean replied within forty seconds, saying he wished he wasn’t. His poor friend was stuck at a dinner with the contemptuous family Armin heard so much about. Jean was always whinging about the animosity he had for his relatives on his mother’s side.

 _I can definitely spin this in my favor._ While Armin appreciated the opportunity to do so, he couldn’t quite fade the urgency of wanting to _be there_ for him. He offered the hospitality of his home in his invitation for him to come over. Jean was all for it. He told Armin he was _such a doll_ and praised his compassion fervidly.

Armin thought the other was way too adept at making him flustered. He let his iPhone fall on his pillow and fanned his face to deflect the rising blush.

\---

_2601 Clearwater Court._

Armin’s house was in a nicer part of town. A proper colonial McMansion at the mouth of a cul-de-sac, it was palatial with its three-car garage, vast yard space and a pool that was currently protected from the weather with a large plastic covering. Jean had only seen the outside, but he had friends that also resided in this neighborhood (namely Marco) so there was a feel for how the interior outline probably looked.

As his feet carried him up the pathway, Jean was reminded that Armin was now _all by himself_ in this enormous suburban abode. That caused a fracture in his mood. The rage that came from being around his family dispersed for a moment. Jean was just worried for his friend.

He didn’t think of the snow that had seeped through his coat during his on-foot traipse, nor the hitch in his breath. (They both resulted from his decision to leave the bus a stop earlier than he was supposed to for the purpose of walking off his mood.) Jean’s impatience to see Armin, and to get out of this damnable cold, trumped everything else. It showed in his simultaneous ringing of the doorbell and the firm raps with the doorknocker.

The front door opened after nearly a minute. Jean drank in the eyeful: alluringly ethereal Armin in a too-big-for-him heather grey pullover (it came just to the tops of his thighs) and thermal jogger pants. His blond hair had been done up in a bun in the middle of his head.

All at once, Jean was overcome with affection for his cute friend. He doubted the urge to act on that would be well-received.

“Oh my God, Jean!” Armin was looking at him with widened eyes, a deep wrinkle in his brow. The concern he wore was unmistakable. “You look like crap! Are you okay?”

Jean must’ve been in worse shape than he thought. He placed his palm on the doorframe and looked down at Armin with a pitiful grin. “I’m good.” He said that even as his eyes were lidded. “I just probably need to sit down or something. I walked a lot of the way here.” The heavy precipitation fell on his coat, making Jean shiver.

Armin frowned. He attentively stepped forward and grasped the boy’s shoulders to keep him from teetering. Jean was grateful for the assistance, though he knew for a fact Armin could not bear his weight.

After aiding Jean in getting inside, Armin pinned him with a hard look and nudged the door shut with his moccasin slipper. “That was awfully stupid, y’know.” He sighed while reprimanding him. “What made you even want to walk here?”

Jean wiped his nose and sniffed. “Taking walks always helps me clear my head.” He leaned against the door and looked around the foyer. To his left was an archway that led into the dining room. To his right was a spiral staircase. _Fancy._

“Being around my family…” The boy breathed out heavily. “It was just really stressful, Armin. They’re a bunch of pretentious dickheads that seem to take pride in judging me every chance they get.” He groaned.

Then a thick, russet-haired woman in a traditional maid’s uniform poked out from the hallway to see what had caused the ruckus.

“Mister Armin? Is everything alright?” she asked.

Armin shifted just his eyes to her and smiled a little bit. “Yes, don’t worry, Inga. This is a friend of mine.”

The housekeeper nodded without saying anything, bowing her head politely to them both and then she scurried back from whence she came. As Armin looked at Jean, the soft care he expressed was quite conspicuous to behold. Jean felt himself warming up.

“Do you wanna talk about it?”

Jean rested a hand atop his head. In entirety, Armin was just… a small dude. A small frame, a small face, even a small voice. How was that possible? His skull fit Jean’s palm in a way that made him wonder if it was made for the touch. But even he had to note the stupid quality of that thought.

“First and foremost, I need to catch my breath,” Jean said. “Then, yeah. But I won’t be able to concentrate until that happens.” He touched his forehead, his breathing coming in shortly.

Armin raised his arms so he could efficiently slide Jean’s coat off his torso. It fell haphazardly to the floor.

“That’s doable.” He nodded. “We really need to get you out of these wet clothes though, okay? You could get sick.”

Jean abated his embarrassment with a chuckle. He didn’t think there was true salaciousness behind what he said, but somehow it felt risqué to imply Jean disrobe like that.

“You’re such a worrywart,” accused Jean. He feigned a collected disposition.

Armin hit Jean’s arm in a halfhearted show of annoyance. It didn’t hold. “Sue me. I just want _my friend_ to be safe and taken care of.”

It wasn’t hard to see his honesty. He watched Armin smile prettily and felt the pull toward cupping his soft-looking face, tilting his head up and perhaps even kissing him— though Jean curbed that penchant. _Not yet._

There was just one thing stopping him from proclaiming how he felt to the high heavens: Jean had to know if Armin really did _like him back._ Confidence helped, but Jean wouldn’t be content until he was told straight up that he wasn’t the only one wise to this spark.

 _I just can’t be. There’s something in the stars that’s pushing us together. I know it. Armin_ has _to feel it too._

Jean gazed at the blond— the current object of his affection— in what he hoped was discretion, but he wouldn’t count on it. Jean was not one for being subtle. He was forthright and brusquely honest. Those characteristics kept true in all parts of his life. Romantic pursuits were not exempt.

By now, the physical malaise had let up, or at least Jean got a semblance of that from the gentleness Armin gave off. “We should probably go sit down, huh?” Blue eyes bore into his thoughtfully. “You honestly look like you might tip over.”

Jean had to thank his foolish trudge through the snow that evening. Armin was being _so sweet_ to him now that he was in this state. Jean had to milk it for what it was worth.

“Yeah, I just might.” He seconded that with a melodramatic sigh. The blond’s face crumpled into renewed worry and he led Jean out of the foyer without a word.

Together, they reached a large space that Jean perceived as living room #1. At the other end of the house, he saw a room with a plasma television between the sofas and living chairs instead of a fireplace. The supplementary living room also housed the entrance to the presently snowcapped patio.

Jean sat on one of the numerous options to do so in the room they’d inhabited. Armin walked over to the marble fireplace and turned it on with a remote from atop the mantle.

“This house is really phenomenal.” Jean observed the sprawling estate with an impressed whistle. His arm rimmed the back of the sofa he was perched upon. “But… I can only imagine how lonely it must be with just you here.” There was a tug on his heartstrings just from bringing it up.

When Armin joined him on the sofa, he was certainly closer to Jean than he needed to be. _Good._ He utilized it to covertly whiff what the boy smelled like. Jean was unsurprised to find that no bad odor hung off of him, just an aroma of what he believed were gardenias.

 _Looking like a fucking prince and smelling like flowers… Armin is just unfathomably perfect._  

It was appalling. He’d been into a myriad of people before. Jean thought he’d be accustomed to how to manage this. Yet much to his irritation, he felt like a green little boy in the fever of his first crush— not the romance guru he _knew_ he was.

“It is lonely.” Armin didn’t want to say more. The terseness of his response painted that picture well. “So… a shower?”

The abrupt shift in his tone nearly gave Jean whiplash.

“I can have Inga put your clothes in the laundry.” Armin pushed back hair that escaped his bun. “You’re welcome to my grandfather’s closet until your clothes are done. He’s… Well, he’s pretty brawny, but I think—”

“I know they’ll fit me.” Jean was unconcerned. He flexed his bicep, hardened by years of athleticism, to put Armin on the same page. “But most definitely. A shower would be awesome.” A tiny smirk curved onto his lips when he caught Armin staring.

_He so wants me._

“It’d be nice to get out of these uncomfortable clothes. And to be under hot water.” Jean was glad just to think about it. His sweater and jeans clung to him in the most _obnoxious_ way due to their dampness. He was conscious that the dye in his clothes might bleed into the sofa if he remained longer.

“Hey, after I shower, can I see that room you told me about with all the art?” Jean watched the blond’s face light up and knew verbalization was unnecessary.

“I hadn’t thought you’d even remember that offhanded comment...” Armin bit his lower lip.

He was presumptuous, and also insecure. Jean gathered quite early on that he was routinely skeptical of anyone showing even the _slightest_ interest in him, or something he represented. Jean wondered what it would entail to make him understand his own worth.

“I wouldn’t say it was ‘offhanded’.” Jean fixed his eyes on the delicate features of the blond boy. “But okay, if that’s how you’re calling it… Anyway, I’d like to see it. I can, right?”

Armin’s hesitant smile largened into full-fledged beaming. Jean surmised this as him saying he trusted in his authenticity.

“Yes, for sure.” Armin nodded as the permission aired out of him. The simple act enamored Jean for a second. _A soft voice for a soft boy,_ he thought, grinning to himself.

Armin straightened from his lax position on the sofa. “Shall we go upstairs?” He looked at the taller male expectantly.

Jean nodded, though he was reluctant to disrupt the closeness. He knew, logically, moving didn’t equate to that, but he liked having him at this distance. And smelling so good, too…

But even still, they got to their feet and departed from the living room. Jean studied the opulence of Armin’s house as they walked along the first level.

“This house is _huge._ ” Jean didn’t think his awe would ever be quelled.

Armin tossed a smile over his shoulder. “Thanks.” He opened a door, revealing a wide staircase presumably to take them upstairs.“It’s actually one of the smallest in the neighborhood, though. Much more modest than the other houses around here.”

Jean snorted. From all that he’d seen, ‘modest’ was not apt to describe this place at all. Marco lived just down the road and his house had the same lavish quality to it. Jean could _kick himself_ for his dull-mindedness. How had it not occurred to him that they lived near one another? His crush and his best friend… Perhaps if he had actually made the connection, Jean would’ve talked to Armin sooner.

 _Perhaps I would have already kissed him, too._ Jean reflected the misstep, trying not to emote his disappointment too much.

Ever since he’d seen Armin that first time as a freshman, Jean had been under a spell. It began as intrigue, no more than an admiration for his schoolmate’s superior attractiveness. But Jean was _infatuated_. He had to know more about the enigmatic blond boy. In his eyes, that meant he had to start watching him.

His findings told him that Armin Arlert was a kind, bookish character that boasted a soaring IQ level. And only confined to his mind would Jean admit the knowledge pretty much _killed_ his spirits.

Even his friends would define him negatively. He’d heard ‘overconfident asshole’ laughingly thrown about one night when he’d been drinking with the football team. “But we love you,” was their way of atoning when Jean got in his feelings.

But he knew they had the right of it. He _was_ overconfident. So much so that Jean couldn’t get a handle on why it was so discouraging to have learned Armin was so _good._

Self-doubt was just did not correspond with Jean Kirschstein, yet here he was doubting his compatibility with Armin. It would be just too fanciful to assume he would give an “emptyheaded jock”, as they were so affectionately named, the time of day.

Jean had been thankful when Armin began making appearances at the hospital, and then again for the subsequent outings with him. It made him see things differently. Even if his crush was unrequited (Jean had a feeling it wasn’t though), the blond had responded to his proposal. They were actually _friends_. Jean had successfully wheedled into Armin’s good books, and he’d say that was something.

The blond pointed his hand out when they’d come up to the next floor by way of the stairs. “My grandfather’s room is just down here, at the end of the hall,” he said, guiding his tall companion forward.

Jean followed him through a carpeted, open hall margined by a banister on the left and overlooking the foyer. This was where the spiral staircase at the front of the house led up to.

With his eyes, Jean counted four bedrooms further down. The one Armin had referred to before at the end of the hall seemed to be the master bedroom; Jean concluded that based on the view allotted from the slightly ajar door.

They entered the elder Arlert’s bedroom together. It was so eerily immaculate inside, like no one had been in there for months. Jean folded his arms as he looked about, astounded by the effective way Armin spoke what he was thinking.

“Inga doesn’t bother cleaning in here since Grandpa’s been away,” the other boy sighed plaintively, making his way over and lowering onto the California king-sized bed. His hands planted on the duvet beneath him. 

“Do you know when he will be released?” Jean’s eyes fell on the sitting form. He tried to be positive, suggesting there’d be a set period wherein his grandfather would be hospitalized. Jean longed to comfort his saddened friend any way he could. Hugs and kisses were included.

 _God, I’m so fucking thirsty aren’t I?_ It was frankly a bit humorous, but if Jean broke into spontaneous laughter he’d have to _explain_ why, and he just wasn’t about that embarrassment.

“His doctor told me in January.” Armin crossed his legs at the ankle. “But now, January is almost over and he’s still there...” Again, he sighed. “I know I should follow up, but honestly? I’ve been dreading doing so.”

There was the smallest wink of a destroyed look in Armin’s eyes, and though he regained himself quickly, Jean saw all of it.

“I get it,” concurred the taller boy, deciding he wouldn’t press. There was a wordless ‘thank you’ woven into Armin’s features.

“So,” He piped up his tone. “my grandfather’s lounge clothes are in the top two drawers of the armoire.” Armin pointed his finger to the big wooden wardrobe that stood across from the bed. “I’m gonna go grab a towel and a washcloth for you, okay? Feel free to use his shower.”

There was only a trace of a smile on Jean’s lips when Armin rose from the bed and skittered back out of the room.

“Okay.” Jean was unsure if he had even been heard. He intensively checked out Armin’s backside until he caught his lewd behavior, making himself turn away and start off to the en suite bathroom.

It wasn’t unlike the rest of the house in its capaciousness, but Jean was not easily jaded. He felt the shower was the largest he’d ever seen. There was a jacuzzi in the back of the bathroom and even a separate nook for the toilet.

After taking it all in, Jean seized the hem of his sweater and tugged it over his chest. The wet garment was kicked gracelessly to the corner. Knocking on the door interrupted the boy from reaching to undo the fly on his jeans.

He opened the bathroom door and his eyes immediately tacked on Armin. The blond presented a neatly folded towel and a washcloth on the top.

“Here you go.” He held them out with a smile, probably thinking he’d been tactful in hiding the way he looked upon Jean’s exposed torso. He hadn’t been.

“My room is just across the hall.” Armin’s smile stayed intact. “Come find me when you’re all dressed and stuff.”

Jean was powerless to do anything but mirror the infectious expression. He nodded when Armin began to move away from him.

“Will do.” Jean watched him go.

The door shut. Not being in his presence hardly stopped Armin from dominating his every thought. His mind could come up with nothing else while he showered, but it would be dishonest to say it bothered him.

Jean _craved_ the images of the androgynous blond that swarmed his mind as the hot water beat against his spine. Lovely, smiling Armin with his heart-shaped face and those oceanic depths Jean was sure he could fall into…

He’d spent a good portion of his shower thinking about him, or rather how to go about the situation at hand. Jean had an ulterior motive in coming over. Armin’s offer was accepted with such _vehemence_ because he’d wanted to secure the advantageous opening to be near the boy he liked. A respite from his family wasn’t the only perk he saw in going to his house.

Jean determinedly completed rinsing soap from his skin. A sense of invigoration washed over him when he switched the shower off and got out. At last he’d reached a verdict with his ambivalent thoughts— There was a clear path to what he had to do.

With the towel around his hips, Jean strode back into Mr. Arlert’s room. He didn’t dawdle througb picking out suitable loungewear from the armoire (navy blue sweatpants and a long-sleeved tee-shirt), drying himself off and then redressing. Jean had to double-knot the drawstring on the borrowed pants he’d chosen.

He scrutinized his reelection for a short moment before crossing the room and slipping into the hallway. Across from Mr. Arlert’s bedroom, there was a closed door that Jean suddenly felt on-edge about approaching. _This is Armin’s room._

It was out of Jean’s realm of understanding why he’d even experience that. Maybe it’d been born of what was decided on during his shower. Whatever it was, it was getting in the way. Jean summoned willpower from an unknown part of him and lifted his fist to knock on his door.

Armin wore a huge smile when he greeted him. It roped Jean into doing the same while he knew his scarcely matched Armin’s in radiance. He didn’t miss how happy the boy was to see him.

“Jean.” Armin’s eyes were trained on the other’s angular face. “You’re back! Great, I was getting pretty bored…” His smile went shy then, which Jean thought to be so very adorable.

“Please, come in.”

“Don’t mind if I do.”

Armin moved aside to grant entry into his bedroom. Jean complied without issue. On instant he noticed the light teal paint on the walls. _Almost like Armin’s eyes_ …

Armin scampered over toward his bed. A plenitude of throw pillows (seven or eight maybe?) had been placed overtop a violet bedspread with a large mandala in the center.

“Do you still wanna talk about your family?” Armin turned his eyes on him purposefully.

“Oh, no, not really.” At that point, Jean’s familial predicament was the furthest thing from his mind. “It’ll only fuck up my mood if I revisit that.” He took up post at the desk directly beside his bed.

“Okay then,” Armin allowed. “Just do what makes you comfortable, Jean.”

He scooted back against the wall. The stance only served to accent his _smallness_ on the queen-sized bed. Jean had to bite back a grin.

_Do what makes you comfortable._

Those words bounced off the walls of Jean’s mind. Armin was surely unaware of how deeply he ruminated. Jean gazed at him, watching the boy sit placidly on his bed with a baby seal plush in his lap. One of his legs was crossed over the other.

“Armin, um,” Jean called after he thought for a little while. _Am I really about to do this?_ “There’s something I… Well—” He licked his suddenly-dry lips, ordering himself to _get his shit together._

“Can I… talk to you about something?”

Armin much favored a puppy then. Curiosity infiltrated his face as his head tilted somewhat. The nod was slow and measured.

“Ah, shit…” Jean chuckled nervously. He had to draw a preparatory breath through his nose. “This is harder than I thought… Uh…”

Fear flashed in big blue eyes. “It’s not bad is it?”

“Oh god, no!” Jean made to assuage his friend’s anxiety with a softened tone. “It’s nothing bad, I swear. _Fuck._ I’m just a little apprehensive to talk about it, that’s all.” He rubbed his nape and glanced at the artwork on the wall.

“It’s just that I—” Jean briefly let his eyelids fall shut. “Well, before, I hadn’t been completely honest with you, Armin.” Still, it was challenging to even look him in the eye. “Back in December, when I’d said I wanted to be friends… It wasn’t the whole truth.”

Armin didn’t reply— his brows just knitted together in a telltale sign of befuddlement.

“It’s not really easy to articulate...” Jean gulped down air and abandoned his spot at the desk. When he’d resettled on the surface of Armin’s bed, the shorter boy pulled his legs to his chest.

“Don’t stress yourself out...”

Jean grinned darkly. “I’m starting to think it’d be better if I just—” He paused to carefully deliberate his course of action in his head. Jean felt emboldened. His voice dropped to a lower timbre. “If I…”

He stared into those pearlescent orbs and inched closer to him.

“If you what?” Armin’s own speech grew more hushed. His bent leg fell to the side. It seemed he might’ve even leaned himself forward, too, but Jean could’ve easily imagined that.

“Jean?” Armin near-whispered, his tentative fingers raised to brush his jaw. He looked unsure of what he was doing.

Jean clasped Armin’s hand with his larger one. He bent his neck and pressed his mouth softly to his fingertips in a flutter of kisses.

Armin looked dazed as he lolled back into the wall. The enormity of the situation seemed to not have hit him yet, either that or he was simply displaying approved. There was strong belief in the latter.

“S-So… what...” The blond closed and opened his eyes. “What was… the truth you didn’t tell me before?”

“I’d think it was obvious.” Jean’s voice kept to its low, vibrating quality. “I wanted more than just friendship with you, Armin...” Jean willed himself not to look away, hoping he was currently too distracted to notice his blush.

“Since I saw you that first time in freshman year, it’s been like that. I’ve been admiring you for years.”

It was hard to admit his infatuation. But Jean was convinced Armin knew at least some of this already— He was unworried about something as trivial as prudence when it came to the physical manifestation of his crush.

But it was plain to see Armin was unable to grasp what Jean had just told him. Skepticism worked into the boy’s eyes as he looked at his lap, evading Jean’s gaze.

“I… don’t… understand that.” Armin said it meekly, though it quickly became evident he enjoyed the gentle tracing of Jean’s finger along his palm.

The taller male took him by the chin and lifted his head back up. He tilted inward so their faces were at a closer proximity.

“What don’t you understand?” Jean was speaking almost against his lips now.

“All of it...” Armin stared right into taupe eyes. He was trembling from the intimacy. “I think… I need some clarity, Jean...”

He caught that ounce of coyness Armin spoke though, though it would be invisible to someone not closely picking apart this moment. Jean smirked, resting their entwined fingers at the side of Armin’s head and pressed him more against the wall.

“You do, do you?” He wanted Armin to say it— to communicate this double-ended desire he knew had been going on for _weeks_. Jean’s eyes bore into him as he slid an arm around the effeminate bend in Armin’s spine.

“Yes,” the boy exhaled. He had thought he’d say something substantial, but somehow that laconic response was more than satisfactory.

There was mutual leaning in until their mouths came together softly. Though it only remained as such for a short period; The chastity was at once discarded and the passion heaped on.

If there was even a way to kiss cutely, Armin accomplished it with the experimental yet amorous movements of his lips. Jean found he couldn’t get enough. It was just too sweet— the way he had secured the lanky body between his legs and breathed those gentle, longing sighs in response to the heated dalliance of their tongues.

Jean released the hand pinning Armin to the wall and dropped it down. His felt his companion shudder when sure fingers snaked underneath the back of his sweatshirt.

Jean broke off only to ask against his lips, “Good?” They were both absolutely _flustered_.

“Mmm, so good, Jean,” Armin purred, stroking the other boy’s hair in a rhythmic manner. “Please keep going. Your touches feel really nice…”

Jean’s smirk only persevered. _As if I could refuse you_. It was honestly ambiguous if he’d given voice to that thought or not. He _kept going_ as requested, hands running the length of Armin’s smooth back while their mouths melded together in some deep, tongue-heavy kisses.

All four of the blond’s limbs threw around Jean when he trailed to his jaw, then the side of his neck afterward. His tongue lapped at his skin and he drank in each responsive sound that tumbled from the other male.

“J-Jean… _Jean_ , wait a second...” Moaning breathlessly, Armin dragged his nails over his scalp when the brown-haired boy added his teeth to the stimulation against his neck.

Then, it all went on pause. Jean unenthusiastically drew backward and noted that Armin’s entire face and neck were equally flushed with blood. He knew his own were of the same quality.

“What is it?” He tried not to appear too ruffled, though Jean couldn’t figure what would possess Armin to tell him to stop what they both clearly wanted. Still, he supposed it meant something that the little space between them prevailed, as did their embrace. He wasn’t too keen on letting Armin go for the foreseeable future anyway.

Jean meant that in more ways than one.

“I-I just wanted to make sure we’re on the same page… about what this means...” Armin was speaking on bated breath. It was curious that the male was able to be shy even after what they’d done.

He knew it went against his orders, but Jean couldn’t help but kiss him quickly on the lips.

“Well, what does is mean for you?” He rubbed his sides and stared inexorably at him. “I’ve told you how long I’ve been pining for this… I think you can guess what I want, yeah?” Reiterating that made Jean bashful.

Armin was smiling warmly. His hands lowered from his hair to his nape. It seemed he too was struggling to adhere to what he’d asked; The need to kiss was strong in his eyes.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to you saying that…” The blush on his cheeks wasn’t even trying to dissipate. He bit enticingly on his lip. “I… um…obviously, I’m not in the same boat. I can’t claim to have been interested in you beforehand.” That caused a minor blow to Jean’s ego.

“If anything, I’ve always kind of found you intimating...” Armin chuckled the smallest fraction. “But… since we’ve started hanging out, I’ve been seeing things through different eyes. I didn’t expect such deep emotions to develop… but honestly I didn’t expect _any of this_.

“To befriend someone so unbelievably amazing… and then to start to desire that person in the romantic sense…” He stopped himself suddenly, peering at Jean through unsure blue eyes.

“I want what you want. I mean, this _is_ what you want, right? I don’t mean to presume, I just thought ‘cause of the way you’ve been acting toward me that it was pretty—”

Jean snuffed out that otiose talk by kissing him. He’d always had an idea of Armin’s feelings, but hearing him state it like this      caused a tug on Jean’s heart that wasn’t planned for.

He pulled away and rested their foreheads against one another. Armin’s thumb brushed the apple of his cheek gently. When they kissed again, the blond was the first to introduce his tongue. He licked the seam of Jean’s mouth before prying inside, both boys moaning synchronously when the wet muscles engaged in an entanglement.

Jean’s fingers massaged up Armin’s clothed outer thigh. He pulled him in so they could fluidly relocate to a horizontal position on the bed. They were pressed together so close, Armin touching Jean’s stubbled jaw while the other boy just groped any reachable flesh of the body underneath him.

He could feel Armin’s hand running down his chest, stopping at the hem of his tee shirt and back up again. Jean had to pull away. The annoyingly _virtuous_ part of him required definite assurance that this was okay with both parties, though he was half certain it was.

“So… we’re on your bed.” Jean felt lame for bringing up the obvious. He was slapped with the urge to just fold; Armin mouthing at his jawline wasn’t making it any easier.

“Mhm, we are,” the blond hummed, not faltering for a second. “Your point?”

“Well, I…” This felt increasingly more inane as time ticked by. His palm stayed put on Armin’s thigh.

“I just wanted to make sure—” A particularly _hard_ nip on his jaw made breath catch in his throat. Jean squeezed his thigh, finding it remarkable how his whole hand almost fit around it.

“That I want you on top of me and making me feel so good?”

Well. Armin summed up his worries in one concise statement. That made Jean feel supremely daft for even starting to ask. It was redundant; Yes, Armin craved this, and he did in turn.

The other’s kisses moved to Jean’s ear, his tongue laving over the shell a few times. “Stopping is not even on my mind right now...” He pointedly guided Jean’s hand inward on his thigh.

“Please just… touch me, Jean...”

_Touch me, Jean._

Thoroughly swayed, Jean obliged. He caressed his inner thigh, groaning slightly at the blond’s activities on his ear. He obeyed him totally— obeyed him until they were divested of their clothing and the other boy was gasping and _crying out_ repetitive wails of his name and pleas for him _not to fucking stop._

Jean let out his own, their resonant moans mingling in a way that would’ve caused a disturbance if not for this immense residence they were in.

\---

After some time, they came down as one conjoined being. Armin slumped on Jean’s chest, boneless and utterly touched-out from the toll their bodies took. A soft smile surfaced when Jean pulled them down on the messy bedding.

Neither wanted to interrupt the connection between them.

“Who knew Saint Armin was so fond of swear words?” Jean teased as he tried to get his breathing under control.

“Pfft. How else was I supposed to tell you how good I was feeling?” Armin’s lips made a pout, which Jean kissed as soon as the expression showed itself. He smirked a little while his hands ran down Armin’s spine.

“Well, you definitely did a good job.” Jean delivered lazy kisses to his mouth. He rolled them over, keeping close as he carefully ejected from the heated tightness of the one under his weight.

Further quips about how _loud_ he’d been waned away when he saw the discomfort on his lover’s face. Jean leaned down and kissed him, tenderly holding the blond within his arms until he made himself get up and go dispose of the condom in the trash bin.

Armin was so _crestfallen_ when he’d left, even though it was only for a moment. Jean smiled at him upon coming back to the bed.

Armin crawled closer to him. He exhaled and lay on his shoulder when the covers were brought over them.

“Jean?”

“Mm? What’s up?” Jean brushed back some of the other’s hair that was matted by sweat.

For a second, Armin was lost in thought. He fixed Jean with seriousness that betrayed the mood. Jean cocked his brow while awaiting Armin’s continuation, wondering what was the matter.

Armin stared, his eye not yielding. He breathed in before he finally got out:

“I just… wanted to thank you.” He wetted his lips.

“Thank me?” Jean regarded the boy questioningly, though there was a tinge of amusement on his tongue. “Aside from that mind-blowing sex… I can’t really think of anything I’ve done worth thanking of late.” He grinned.

As a reply, Armin’s cheeks reddened. “I’m being serious,” he half-scolded. “Listen, Jean. I really doubt that my grandfather’s getting out of the hospital.  At least not anytime soon. I just have a bad feeling...”

It seemed he was preparing to say more on that, but in the end he thought better of it.

Jean sobered. “Armin wait, you don’t have to—”

“No, I do,” insisted the blond. “I have to say this.

“I’ve been having such a hard time recently, but Jean, you just… you _bulldozed_ right on in, didn’t you?” Armin’s chuckle was only faintly heard.

“No one told you to do that, though I suppose I can’t complain. I was so lost in being sad… But then with you, I get at least a semblance of what it’s like to be happy.” He gazed wistfully into honey-brown eyes.

“You really are a beacon of light, Jean. It’s precisely what I need right now. I need someone to just… _be there,_ you know?”

Armin was near enough to him that his breath fanned on his lips.

“Thank you,” he said. “For just being you and distracting me from all the dismalness _._ ”

 It finished on a small smile, but Jean saw the true heartache swimming behind it. Spiked with concern, he would have to comfort his friend and lover the way he was most familiar with. Jean put a heavy arm over Armin’s chest.

“It just feels natural to wanna make you happy,” Jean responded. “It’s not even really intentional, so I wouldn’t say ‘thanks’ are in order.”

Armin’s smile grew somewhat. He cupped the side of his face and caressed the skin in gentle strokes with his thumb.

“Whether or not it’s conscious is irrelevant to me.”

They kissed again for the countless time. Armin nuzzled the taller boy’s chest and their legs tangled underneath the sheets. There might’ve been a whisper of something more, but both males were too spent to even _try_ to act on it.

Armin ended the kiss and smiled tiredly at Jean. “Can we just... nap for a little while?” His head reclined on one of many plush pillows.

Jean turned to face him, smiling as Armin held his hand on the bed between them. Their fingers fitted together easily.

“Nap?” Jean peeked at the bedside radio-clock. “It’s after eleven, Armin. I think it’ll be more than a nap if we sleep right now.”

But when Jean’s eyes retuned to the blond, his lids were shut and there was but the hint of a smile on that pretty face. Jean had to peck him with a kiss. _Too cute._

“Fine.” He moved his head back a little, chuckling. “I guess you win then.”

He resigned to watching his lover for a bit before Jean could no longer fight it and let himself be lulled away in the embrace of sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Is that a part 2 I smell in the distance? Don't quote me on that, but maybe there might be one.


End file.
